


Relief

by FriendOfTheFugitive



Series: Breaking His Habit [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Addiction, Blood Addiction, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Blood, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendOfTheFugitive/pseuds/FriendOfTheFugitive
Summary: Roryan Brassa's fix is within reach, and he won't stop until he gets his relief.





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Yay another Rory addition! Again, it features Titus Trevelyan, Razildor's son who, in this alternate timeline that coincides with Aftermath, is a companion to my son Ferron Lavellan.

He hissed lowly through his teeth as the wet rag slid over the expanse of the fresh cuts and bruises on his stomach. The water soon turned red as he dipped the grey material back into the basin at his desk. The rag sloshed against his fingers when he pulled away. He leaned towards the mirror, squinting to see the long cut underneath his collar bone. It was still ebbing blood, but was not deep enough to need stitches.

Titus didn't turn when he heard footsteps lightly clipping up the stairs to the third floor. He saw Rory watch the spar, and he saw him enter the blacksmiths not a moment after Titus reached the second floor stairwell. Their first encounter was awkward and tense - what possessed the elf to drive him to make another encounter? Wasn't one enough?

“Quite a fight you gave,” he spoke evenly, his voice was smoky, deep with a slight rasp coating on the top. It was surprisingly hot to Titus, but he showed no sign of it being pleasing. His eyes shifted in the mirror, staring at the reflection of his visitor.  He was glaring - this elf had done nothing to gain his trust.

Titus said nothing. He simply pulled the rag out of basin and dabbed it across the cut, absorbing the blood and trying to hold back the little hisses of pain that threatened to escape. He wouldn't dare show weakness to his visitor. Rory didn't seem to be phased by the silent treatment, “Not much for words, eh _Brute_? I know you talk - I've heard you, remember?” he leaned away from the wall and dropped his crossed arms to his side. He took a step forwards - the smell coming from Titus was almost too much to keep a clear head around.

“I've no words for you,” he growled, turning from the mirror to face Rory. His eyes examined him, checking to see if he was armed. He looked dangerous - devious and charming with an unspoken familiarity with darkness and sex. He was all too tempting, and with each step he took, Titus relaxed a tiny bit more.

Rory was a breath away, his hand brushed along the front of Titus' trousers, his head tilting, inviting Titus into a kiss. “Who said we have to speak?” Rory hoped it would be enough - the Reaver's eyes glared down from their four centimeter height difference. The elf held his breath, leaning in until his body pressed against Titus' bare chest and his hand showed its intent without any signs of stopping.

A single groan escaped Titus, and Rory knew he had gotten what he wanted. He avoided Titus' suddenly eager lips and began to suck his neck. The skin blossomed light purple bruises from his lips and teeth. His hand snaked into Titus' trousers, gripping his hard cock and stroking it. His mouth moved down his chest, trailing towards the fresh cut on his shoulder. He was so close to his goal - his eyes darkened and he could feel his own cock twitch to life. The thrill of getting what he wanted was so delicious he felt like he could cum right there - but he had to hold off.

The pants sunk lower on his hips, revealing the full length of his cock. Rory continued to stroke him, twisting his hand around the base and circling his thumb over his head. He felt the thrumming just underneath the skin. Titus' knees almost collapsed under the sudden pleasure. He gripped the desk, gasping at the expert way his hand massaged his entire length. He fought to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head.

Rory's tongue flattened, dragging over the expanse of his cut that started bleeding again from the sudden jump in blood pressure. It tasted so sweet - _so right_ \- he had trouble keeping himself from being greedy. His system felt alive, the roar in his veins dulling at the relief. A shudder pulled through him, his hand instinctively moved faster, gripping Titus harder as he did so. He couldn't believe how easy this was.

A hand snaked into his hair, gripping it and pulling his head back. His muscles tensed and a low growl pushed through him, the action triggering a memory deep in the back of his mind, something from the past he escaped. Titus used the leverage to capture his lips. Luckily, Rory had licked his mouth enough to clean up the blood he consumed. He didn't really participate in the kiss, but Titus couldn't split his attention enough to kiss and enjoy his hand job.

There was a low cry from his lips, and Rory felt the warm liquid push into his hand. He smeared it back, coating Titus' cock with it - it was a new sensation for Titus, but he found himself enjoying it. He leaned all of his weight on the desk, almost tipping it. Rory pulled away and licked his fingers in clear view, cleaning up what was left of Titus from his hand. The brute watched in awe, Rory was hotter than he thought.

“I'll see you around, Brute.” he winked and turned, clipping down the stairs. Titus sighed and dropped his gaze. _What the fuck did he just do?_


End file.
